Monday, April 22, 2013

100 Words a Day 248

He hit the Drop Call button, hanging up the phone. He scratched his head, dislodging his headset slightly.

A spiral cord ran from the headset to the phone, a chain made of wires covered in grey plastic. It kept him bound to the desk, a slave to the repetitive task of dialing. In some sense, it was like being chained to a loom in a sweatshop. The work wasn’t as arduous, but it was broiling.

The neutral colors were oppressive, stifling any positivity he felt. How he longed for a vibrant red or an oceanic blue to lift him up.

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